Skip to content
Join our Newsletter

The two sides of Venice: Tourists flock to the historic city, residents seek out quieter areas

The narrow alley ended abruptly and unexpectedly, our route thwarted again by yet another quiet waterway.
1520travel

The narrow alley ended abruptly and unexpectedly, our route thwarted again by yet another quiet waterway. Hopeless frustration! Surely we couldn’t have wandered too far from the Grand Canal again! We were lost in an impenetrable maze of laneways and water, fruitlessly studying our useless map beneath a string of washing hanging quietly above.

Presently, a sleek and shiny black gondola cut silently through the water, its passengers nestled comfortably within. A lanky Italian stood at its rear, expertly manoeuvring his craft with a single long oar. Across the canal, another boat of a more sturdy and practical nature was moored behind a building. Goods were being unloaded and taken inside what was likely the back entrance to a shop. In Venice, all daily tasks that would normally require a car or truck have to be done by boat.

The day was murky; the lagoon shrouded in a grey cloak of mist, eliminating any possibility of navigation by sun. We were walking purposefully in what we hoped was the direction of Piazza San Marco , or Saint Mark’s Square, the directions to our guesthouse tucked firmly in my pocket, for if we lost them, we would surely never find the place again! Piazza San Marco , a vast plaza flanked by Venice’s most famous landmarks, Saint Mark’s Basilica, the Doge’s Palace and the Bell Tower, is one of the city’s mandatory stops. Surely it shouldn’t take all day to find!

There are no cars on the main islands of Venice; no traffic signals or roaring highways to negotiate. Just a large parking lot and a train station at the end of a long causeway that crosses the water from the mainland. In the quiet labyrinth of alleyways, locals were going about their daily routines on foot. Certainly they were used to encountering the odd stray tourist who had foolishly wandered off the bustling main drag, studying a weathered map and looking perplexed. It’s true what the guidebooks say: A trip to Venice is not complete without becoming completely and hopelessly lost!

But what would possess anyone to build a city in such a place? Over 100 natural and artificial islands joined by nearly 400 stone bridges supporting a city of 62,000 residents, not to mention over 50,000 tourists a day. Surely it is not a practical endeavour to construct an entire city on rows of pilings driven into a shallow sea. What inspired such madness? I pondered these thoughts while retracing our steps as we had encountered yet another dead end. The answer is simple: Attila the Hun.

The year was 452 AD when the Huns marched boldly into Italy. Seeking refuge from the invading armies, many inhabitants fled to the outer islands of the lagoon, forming a pleasantly situated “refugee camp”. Not all returned to their mainland homes, and a small settlement was born.

A subsequent invasion, just over 100 years hence, by the Lombards provoked another mass exodus to the relative safety of the lagoon, and the population grew and became more permanent. A council was selected and in the eighth century, the Republic of Venice elected its first Duke, or Doge .

The French invasion of 810 prompted the population to shift from the outer islands to the more protected area in the centre of the lagoon. Ri’Alto, or “high bank” is the site of modern day Venice where the famous bridge of the same name spans the mighty Grand Canal, the floating city’s lifeline and most important through-fare. It is indeed the watery version of your typical main street.

The Grand Canal of modern times bustles with activity. Water buses, known as vaporetto, noisily disgorge boatloads of tourists at floating bus stops. Motor boats laden with supplies buzz purposefully about and the occasional siren will wail from a speeding police or ambulance boat. And throughout it all, shiny, black gondolas glide quietly through the water.

A nagging suspicion was forming in the back of my mind. Were we, in fact, meant to be on the other side of the Grand Canal? We had somehow found our way out of the quiet back alleys and were being swept along among the throngs of tourists, back on the main through-fare flanked by shops of all description. Beckoning on all sides were showcases of decadent baked goodies, elaborate ice cream displays, enormous slabs of pizza sold by weight, glittering jewelry, and vendors hawking the mandatory tacky Venetian souvenirs. Unable to resist the lure of commerce, we soon found ourselves seated at a busy canal-side patio ordering red wine and risotto con funghi from a decidedly haughty Italian waiter, and trying with futility to pinpoint our location on the map.

Despite the romance of the place — the decadent old palaces rising abruptly from the water, the fairytale stone bridges spanning quiet waterways and twinkling lights dancing off the canals — modern Venice is not without its problems. A combination of the rising level of the Adriatic Sea and land compression beneath the pilings that support the city is causing Venice to flood with alarming regularity. In the 1900s, it was typical for Saint Mark’s Square to flood about 10 times a year. Today the norm is 60!

The most disastrous flood occurred in 1966, submerging the city in almost two metres of salt water and causing the ground floors of 1,600 homes to be abandoned. Since then, the permanent population of Venice has almost halved and continues to decline. Real estate prices soar beyond the reach of all but the richest Venetians, and the locals are packing up and moving out. It is speculated that by the middle of the 21 st century, the city may be entirely devoid of permanent residents, leaving in its wake a floating theme park to which one might pay admission.

This would certainly be an unfortunate end to what was once among the most rich and important trading nations in Europe. The Republic of Venice maintained its independence for 1,070 years, the longest in history. In 1797 she was forced to surrender to the Austrian army, and was gifted to Napoleon III of France, who finally turned her over to the Kingdom of Italy, where she remains today. Ironically, the city’s 17 th century decline was reversed by mass tourism, which, in turn, may become its demise.

Finally, and entirely by surprise, we stumbled upon the Grand Canal, and a conveniently situated traghetto stop. Meaning “ferry” in Italian, traghetti are old gondolas stripped of their luxurious trimmings which are used to ferry people back and forth across the canal. With a little trepidation, we stepped aboard the unstable craft with half a dozen others, giving a handful of coins to the oarsman. These small passenger boats are standing room only, and offer no railings or anything to hang on to. Just sturdy sea-legs and a good sense of balance will keep you upright for the brief crossing.

We may find Piazza San Marco eventually, but it didn’t matter. In Venice, one may spend hours wandering, achieve nothing at all, and still have a very fulfilling day.

To truly discover the floating city, you must lose the tourists and seek out her quiet corners. The back alleys where portly Italian women wrestle their shopping through curiously situated front doors and tranquil seafronts where clusters of older men socialize and walk their dogs. The small green space at the tip of the island where young, olive-skinned couples smooch on park benches and the stretches of open water between the islands where Venetian teens roar noisily past in their speedboats, as others might do in their cars. The key to really discovering the soul of Italy’s fascinating floating city is far from the well worn tourist trail, found only by those with a passion for wandering where others have not.